


Fall From Grace

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Homeless Graves, Homelessness, M/M, Mention of sexual soliciting, Newt to the eventual rescue, People are Dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: After everything that had happened with Grindelwald, Graves spent months in hospital recovering. When he's discharged he's presented with a huge bill. It's enough to wipe out his life savings. Or would have been if Grindelwald hadn't drained his bank account. So he has to sell his home. Except MACUSA are demanding he pay for the damage Grindelwald had caused the city while wearing his face. With no money and nowhere to go Graves ends up homeless and living on the streets while trying to hold down a demanding job and pretending everything is fine.





	Fall From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read.  
> Characters do not belong to me - only the typos and mistakes.
> 
> Special mention to reilaroo who helped check the first 1/3 of this and encouraged me to finish the thing.
> 
> I've got a tagging brain block -if you can think of anything else to add then let me know!

Recovery was a slow process. Countless days bled into weeks and months for Percival. Initially it was a blur of agony, bright lights and strange voices. The constant vigilance and worry of where the next burst of pain would come from was exhausting. Slowly though it faded, the world began to make sense once again though the pain was still there, it was more of a dull thud rather than the roar of agony that seized his body. Through countless spells, potions, pills and therapy eventually he got better. Well enough to be discharged and return to his job. Percival hoped he could put everything behind him and move on with his life.

The day of his discharge came and he was presented with a bill. He swallowed thickly, that was all his savings and then a little more. Still, it was exactly the kind of thing he had savings for. Being an auror was dangerous, being the head of the department even more so. He never knew when something would happen to him that required extensive and expensive treatment. Percival had never thought anything would happen to him that would incur such costs but still. He had a week to get his money to the hospital so he figured he’d head home first.

Picquery had been by just as he was preparing to leave. She’d reassured him his job was still there for him but his apartment being treated as evidence so he could not return. It was inconvenient sure, but Percival had to family mansion to fall back on so it wasn’t such an issue. He would have liked to go back to his own quiet haven but Grindelwald had lived there to keep up appearances. Until his trial was over there was no hope he could go back home. He knew enough about MACUSA and international trials to not get his hopes up. His apartment would be evidence for at least a year if not more. Unfortunate and annoying but there was nothing he could do about it.

The old family mansion was large and cold. It hadn’t been lived in for over a decade. Sure Percival still visited it, kept it in order but for one man it was far too large and it was on the outskirts of the city, too far to travel to work from – especially with the hours he had worked. He wasn’t due back at work until after the weekend – and even then he was only doing half days to begin with - so Percival made the best of his time and set about making a few rooms as homely as possible. It left him exhausted and filthy. While he was deemed recovered and safe to return home he wasn’t back to his usual fitness. He tired easily still and needed frequent breaks to gather himself.

His first day back at work was hectic. People were keen to welcome him back, to make amends for their guilt in not spotting his impostor and perhaps to also reassure themselves that he wasn’t angry with them. Percival had catch-up meetings and a mountain of paperwork to sort through. After a brief lunch he had the final meeting of his day with Picquery which he attended with mild dread. It wasn’t often he was summoned to her office and whenever it happened it was not good news. Percival tried to fathom what problem could have come up so soon after his return. His mind strayed to Grindelwald and his possible escape. It wasn’t a thought he wanted to entertain. Before his mind could cook up new and worse horrors he’d reached the President’s office. The door swung open and he entered. Picquery sat behind her desk and motioned for him to take a seat too. Her smile never quite reached her eyes.

“How are you settling back in, Director?” she asked.

“As good as can be expected. There’s a lot to do and not nearly enough time.”

“Quite. I need to talk to you about a rather delicate matter though.”

“Oh?” Percival braced himself mentally, whatever was coming it wasn’t going to be good.

“There’s two parts to it really. Firstly it’s a matter of you returning only part time. I know it’s difficult but as you know MACUSA is under a lot of financial strain. We can only pay for hours worked. So until you return to full duties your pay will be adjusted according to the hours you work.”

Percival sighed. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He’d been hoping to be able to start saving up again – he still needed to pay the hospital and he’d been in a bit of debt after he’d settled that bill. But he’d hoped that in a few months he’d be back to squirreling away a little each month. With only being paid for the hours worked he’d have to be a lot more careful with his money. Not ideal but he was sure he could cope.

“Of course, I understand.” Was all he replied, there was no use arguing, he knew the way MACUSA worked. It wasn’t a happy situation.

“The other thing, Director, is perhaps even more delicate.” Picquery continued. “As you may have seen the reports, the final fight with Grindelwald had caused a lot of damage to City Hall, not to mention the damages brought about by the obscurial. Now it has been decided that these damaged have come about because a dark wizard was wearing your face therefore you are at least in part responsible for these damages.”

Percival inhaled sharply. He didn’t want to think about where this was all going.

“It wasn’t my decision alone, I fought hard against it for you but sadly I was overruled.” Picquery said and Percival got the distinct impression that she was lying. She didn’t fight for him or perhaps it was just a token fight to save face. “But these damages have to be paid for. I know you’ve just come out of hospital and have bills to settle there too. So I have managed to argue not to present you with a bill and demand immediate repayment. Instead we’ll adjust your wages accordingly so over the course of the coming year and a half you’ll be paying back the fees MACUSA has incurred. It’s the best solution we could find to such an unfortunate situation.”

She had the gall to give him a small smile after that speech. Percival’s mind was running through the numbers. He’d have to return to full time work immediately to be able to manage his debts. He’d perhaps have to sell a few of the family heirlooms too, just to keep afloat.

“Your adjusted wages will be sent out as per usual at the end of the month. That will be all.”

Percival nodded and rose with the dismissal. He’d need to sit down and work out a plan, write up all his outgoing costs and see what he could cut down on. To think he’d hoped to just return to work and get on with his life as before. He mentally kicked himself for being an idealistic optimist. It was his final meeting of the day so he returned home to the cold mansion and sat down to work out just what he could and suddenly could not afford. A few hours later he leant back in his chair and puffed out his cheeks. It was a pretty bleak picture. He’d have to sell more than a few things and cut back on his spending considerably but he could manage. He wouldn’t be able to buy his favourite coffee anymore and he’d have to go without cigarettes completely but in the grand scheme of things those were small things. He’d be able to manage somehow. That night sleep didn’t come easily to him and for once it had nothing to do with his imprisonment.

The next day he went to work in the morning. Instead of buying his usual paper from the boy on the corner he remorsefully shook his head and walked on. Another thing he couldn’t really afford any more. He walked past the shoe shiner he’d stop by once a week and realised he’d have to sort his shoes out himself too. It was small bitter reminders of things he couldn’t have anymore but still, he smiled and went to work. Nobody need know their boss was having financial worries. The day itself was fairly mind numbing and it was a blessing to have something else to focus on rather than how much he’ll have to cut back on his spending habits. When Fontaine popped his head in and asked if he wanted to have a smoke break he politely smiled and shook his head.

“Time to kick the habit for me.” he said ruefully. Fontaine shrugged and left. Percival let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. In the afternoon, despite his fatigue he dragged himself to the bank. He needed to pay his hospital bill as soon as possible and then he’d know how much money he had to play around with until the end of the month. He took his key and let the goblin lead him down to the vault. Polite as ever the goblin stood off to one side as Percival opened the door. It creaked open and he blinked. Checked the outside of the door, it was the correct vault. He looked again in disbelief. Where his savings should have been piled up was a measly little mound of coins. His blood ran cold as he quickly tried to work out just how much was in his vault. Nowhere near enough. It wouldn’t even pay for a week’s hospital stay let alone a couple of months. Percival shut his eyes against the onslaught of panic. He didn’t have a way to pay off the hospital. His pay was reduced to next to nothing. His savings had been decimated. It was like a final flipping off from Grindelwald. Torturing and impersonating Percival hadn’t been enough for him, he also had to run his life into ruins. The goblin cleared his throat behind him and Percival lurched forward. Blindly he gathered everything up into a pouch and closed the door to the empty vault behind him.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. He set his money out of the table and tried to think of a way to suddenly make it multiply, to somehow make it enough for everything. Then he walked through the mansion and tried to tally up what he could sell for how much. It still fell considerably short. Percival laughed almost hysterically. There he was, in his 40’s, as the Director of Magical Law Enforcement from the prestigious Graves family – one of the original 12 – with no vices, no gambling or drinking habits, no lovers or children to support. Yet he was still in a financial situation he couldn’t see a way out of. He looked around himself in a manic wonder. He had one last thing he could sell. Several of the larger, richer wizarding families had expressed an interest in the mansion with its historic significance and grandeur. Until now Percival had never thought about selling it. But now? Now he needed money desperately and urgently. It was too late in the afternoon to do anything about it but the next afternoon when he was done at work Percival made a few enquiries. He even got a few offers that were almost insulting but he needed to consider his options. He had until the end of the week to get the hospital bill settled and things were getting desperate.

By Thursday he had sorted through the house, put together what he would need. He had hoped to find a hostel to stay in just for a few days before he managed to get his feet back under him. Percival went to the hospital and asked for an extension on his bills by a week. The accountant he spoke to frowned and dragged things out. Percival didn’t want to beg, he didn’t want to open himself up to a stranger just for a slice of humanity. Eventually the man relented and agreed to extend his deadline by a week. Of course there was a percentage to be added for late payment but by that point Percival had run out of energy to argue. The weekend he spent finalising the details of the sale. On Monday he went to work and firmly told Picquery he’d be back full time as of the following day. She frowned at him but he pulled himself to his full height and tried to look less tired and drawn out than he felt.

In the afternoon he put his things together. Most of it was at his apartment, sealed off until further notice but he still had a few changes of suit and toiletries to pack. On Tuesday morning he took one last lingering glance at the mansion he’d grown up in, picked up his suitcase and locked up for the final time. Percival tried very hard not to think about where he’d go after work that evening. Work thankfully took up a lot of his energy. At lunchtime he popped out to finalise the sale of the mansion – the sum he got for it was woefully under the retail value if he’d gone about it through official channels. But then the process would have taken months and he’d have been unable to pay off his hospital bills. Once he had money in hand he went straight to the hospital and paid it all off. Back at the office he closed and locked his office door and pooled the remains of the money on the table and stared. He’d done a bit of research into hostels in the area, had tried to find one that would keep it quiet that the Director of Magical Law Enforcement was a guest of theirs. There were a few potential ones out there but they still charged. The money he had left would have been enough for maybe four nights’ stay – a week at a less reputable one. That was if he opted not to eat, drink or spend money on anything else. Percival sighed and pushed the coins back in his pouch. He’d figured something out. The knock on his door interrupted him and without much preamble he threw himself back into work.

At five o’clock on the dot Picquery appeared and with the good intention of sending him home. While he may be back at full time work she insisted that he not over exert himself and get going to enjoy his evening. As slowly as possible Percival gathered his things and ambled down to the main exit of the building. It was no different to any other day as he left work. He stepped through the door out onto the street and stopped. He didn’t know where to go. The weather was balmy, the first hints of autumn just starting to cling to the coattails of summer. Someone stepped out of the building behind him and he had to move.

Aimlessly he wandered through the city. The light began to fade and he was no closer to coming up with a solution to his predicament. Percival didn’t want to admit he was homeless but there was no other way to summarise his situation. But it was only a temporary thing, he’d find his way out of it soon. He just needed to figure it out. To pass time and keep his hunger from gnawing at him he stopped by a cheap diner for a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Even they had to close though and Percival found himself on the streets again. He was tired and he knew he needed to have at least a semblance of normalcy for work. He took a winding path from MACUSA to an area he knew fewer of the employees would be likely to pass through. There, he found a small park and a bench. Percival sank down onto it, tucked his case under his head and shut his eyes. He tried to sleep, tried to let his fatigue pull him under but he couldn’t. Part of him worried about being found, about his bag being snatched from him. It was almost impossible to sleep. Eventually he sank into fitful respite.

A hand pushed at his shoulder gruffly. Percival shot up, eyes wild as he tried to remember where he was. A scruffy looking man grumbled at him.

“Get off my bench.”

Percival stared around and apologised. He shuffled off the bench and took his case with him, mind still fuzzy. It took him a few more steps to realise what had happened and glanced back. Where he’d been trying to sleep, the gruff homeless man was now sprawled and snoring. Percival felt his heart sink, he didn’t want to end up like the man. He also realised he had a lot of learning to do and quickly. He knew nothing about the etiquette and hierarchy of the homeless, unless he wanted to get into trouble he had to pick it up pretty quickly. Eventually he found a stoop under which he could curl up, sat on his case to keep it safe. Sleep eventually claimed him in fits and starts. With the first light of the sun though Percival was up. A quietly muttered spell straightened his clothes out a little and he began to wander the streets once more. He thought about breakfast but decided that his money was better spent later so he walked past all the bakeries with their aromas billowing from open doors. He walked past little diners where some people were getting coffees and plates piled high with greasy bacon, sausages and other goodies. He held his head high and ignored the gnawing hunger that was starting in his belly.

As soon as it was possible he slipped into MACUSA quietly, taking a side door and the back stairs. Instead of going up to his department he went down, where there would be fewer people. Percival found a quiet corridor with an empty toilet. Quickly he set about shaving, changing his shirt and trying to take his hair to its usual sleekness. A haircut was another thing he’d have to make do without for a little while. It was only by chance he heard footsteps approaching and he quickly slid into a cubicle, half dressed, hair still a mess. He waited with baited breath as the other person finished their business and left. When he was sure nobody else was around Percival crept out of his hiding place and hurriedly finished getting ready. Presentable once more he took a more public route back up towards his office. Once he was there he sat down at his table and began the day’s work.

Lunchtime rolled round and he realised he needed to eat something. As much as he wanted to head out with the rest of the team or even go down to the canteen to grab something he knew that money would be tight. Instead he quietly slipped out by himself and searched for the cheapest sandwich he could find. It was one of the most miserable lunches of his life and there was nothing he could really do about it.

Again at five o’clock on the dot someone appeared at his door to usher him home on time. Percival almost laughed in their face but instead he politely said thank you, grabbed his case and left. This time he strolled to a different part of the city. Still far enough away and run down enough that the chances of anybody recognising him were next to nothing. His stomach gurgled and he tamped down on the frown. As night fell he carefully picked his way through back alleys, trying to find a spot to curl up in. He was tired, hungry and stiff from the previous night. Eventually he found a little alcove and settled down to try and sleep.

He woke to being very gently pushed. The case which was under him was being pulled and with a sudden yank he was unceremoniously dumped on the ground. A woman tried to rush off with his case but wand in hand Percival stopped her. He wrestled his case back from her and obliviated her before she could put up a fuss. Crisis averted Percival settled down on his case once again but sleep refused to come to him. With the rising of the sun he got up too. His clothes were rumpled and his coat dirty from where he’d been on the ground. Tiredly he muttered a cleaning spell and trudged back towards MACUSA. Again, he snuck in the side entrance, found an empty corridor with toilets and set about readying himself for the day.

He sank into his chair with an appreciative groan, it was soft and comfortable unlike the cold hard ground he’d been on overnight. Instead of getting to work he took out his money pouch again and counted. Percival frowned, he had two more weeks until he was paid so he had to make his money last. Additionally he needed to figure out what he needed to keep paying to keep up appearances. There was his monthly subscription to the international auror group. If he let that go there’d be rumours so he had to keep that. On a piece of paper Percival began writing a list of essential outgoing costs. It was a depressing list and when he added up how much it would cost he realised that he wouldn’t have that much money left over. Certainly not enough to cover rent of some description or even a bed in a hostel. Despair made him bury his head in the crook of his arms on the table.

A sharp knock on the door woke him. Embarrassed he sat bolt upright and quickly tidied his desk. Smoothing his hair he let the door open and hoped it wasn’t obvious he had been asleep on the job. MACUSA didn’t take kindly to slackers. Thankfully Collins didn’t seem to note anything unusual and their interaction was short, to the point. At lunchtime Percival made his way down to the corner shop again and found the cheapest sandwich once more and tried to smile as he handed his money over to the bored cashier. He didn’t get a smile back.

That evening he’d decided to leave the content of his case behind. If someone tried to rob him again he’d have nothing left. Instead he quickly and quietly cleared out the bottom draw of his desk and stashed his clothes in there. Toiletries remained in his case but his money pouch went into his pocket. When he left that evening he returned to the stoop he’d found on his first night and tried to sleep.

Morning meetings were never his strong point and Percival had a string of them on Fridays. Summaries of the week, setting out targets for the week to come and other boring matters. It didn’t help that he was hungry, the plain black coffee was doing nothing to keep his hunger at bay anymore. Midway through one of the meetings his stomach grumbled loudly. Percival tried not to blush and made some excuse about skipping breakfast because he had overslept. It seemed to appease the others who moved on but it still sat deeply uncomfortably with him. At the end of the meeting they all rose from the table and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He held onto the table and tried to blink the dark spots from his vision. Nobody noticed his moment of weakness but it was enough to give him pause for thought. His next coffee he loaded up with sugar and cream. The taste left him frowning but he couldn’t afford to be picky in that moment. His body needed something to keep going and MACUSA was kind enough to supply unlimited coffee to its workers. He’d make full use of it to his advantage.

The next meeting ran over and by the time Percival could think about getting to lunch it was time for his afternoon paperwork. Another coffee in hand Percival shrugged and thought of the money he’d just saved by skipping lunch entirely. Evening rolled round and he was ushered out of his office once more. It was quite endearing how much his subordinates cared for him, no doubt under orders from Picquery but still, they seemed to care. Little did they know that they were just sending him out into the streets rather than to a nice relaxing evening at home. Nevertheless Percival went along with their wishes easily, he’d have plenty of time to stay late later on. On his way to the stoop he’d started thinking of as his he stopped by the shop for a sandwich. Part of him was delighted to discover that the remaining sandwiches of the day were reduced to sell. He almost picked up one that he liked the look of but then he looked at the prices. There was a cheaper one on the shelf, not as appealing but when he was counting his pennies he had to make them all matter. With mild disappointment he put the sandwich back down and picked up the cheapest one he could find. Once again he didn’t get a smile.

It was the weekend. His clothes were uncomfortable to sleep in and at some point just before dawn it had started to drizzle. Despite his best attempts he was still damp and sticky. It wasn’t pleasant, especially when a cool breeze picked up. Percival ambled through the city and marvelled at how much money mattered. Before all this he wouldn’t have thought twice about stopping by a coffee shop to get a bite to eat and a coffee to go. Now he stood outside a coffee shop taking in the scents and wishing. But the price of a sandwich and a coffee was the same as four days of sandwiches from the shop he’d found. Six sandwiches if he went late in the afternoon when there were reduced ones.

Percival realised the flaw in his brilliant plan of leaving his clothes in the drawer at MACUSA later on. He didn’t have anything to change into and the cold was slowly creeping through him into a bone deep chill. Down another deserted alley he pulled his pouch out and did a quick bit of maths. If he skipped a few meals and relied on the coffee at MACUSA along with perhaps splitting a couple of sandwiches over the course of two days he could get a cheap, warm hoodie, sweatpants and maybe even a blanket. The weather showed no signs of improving and if the glances he’d caught of the newspapers then a storm was coming. Pocketing his pouch Percival turned back, he hoped that the cheap clothes he’d spotted were still there.

He got lucky. After spending half of his money he was the proud owner of a warm hoodie and some sweatpants along with a sturdy warm blanket that would hopefully keep the chills out. Another discovery Percival made was that the library was a wonderful source of warmth and a great way to kill time. He found his way in there purely by accident in a way. It was free to go in and he’d not visited it in years – after all he’d had his own library to call upon in the mansion. This time he took a good few minutes to browse the selection of books to find something that might interest him. Part of him wanted to laugh at the fact that it took him becoming homeless to find the time and the willing to read a book that for once wasn’t related to his job. A quiet corner removed from most people in the library proved to be the perfect spot. He slouched in the chair and opened the book.

A gentle hand on his shoulder had him sitting up in a panic. Percival glanced around and found the librarian looking at him kindly.

“Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing now.” She showed no hint of repulsion, only a hint of sympathy. Percival nodded at her mutely and gathered his case.

“Thank you. Sorry for any inconvenience.” He murmured.

“Nothing to worry about. It happens all the time. Have a safe journey home.”

It was with a jolt he realised that it was the kindest thing anyone had said to him that day. And the longest exchange he’d had with anyone since work. That was a sad thought and it hadn’t occurred to him at all until then. He’d had no friends or family to call upon for help. He’d been sleeping rough for half a week now and nobody realised anything was any different. To be fair they didn’t notice he’d been replaced by a dark wizard for a few months so he shouldn’t have been all that surprise. In a public restroom Percival got changed into his new, dry and warm clothes before he trudged back to his stoop.

Sunday brought about a fresh challenge. The library was shut, people were out in their Sunday best going to church and having pleasant family walks despite the chill in the weather. Percival wandered aimlessly through the city for a bit but there wasn’t much he could do to occupy himself. All too soon he found himself back on his stoop, sullenly staring at his case. All his childhood dreams of running away to an adventure came bitterly pouring back. He should have been thankful to his parents for providing him with a warm home and food. Even if they fell short on the love front they at least still ensured he had a stable home. He struggled to reconcile his brattish childhood desired with the reality of having no home. It wasn’t an adventure, it wasn’t thrilling or exciting. The misery of his existence slowly sank in and he watched his hopes slowly leech away. It wasn’t the time to cry though, out in the street, vulnerable to prying eyes and opportunistic predators. Percival gathered himself up and curled into the stoop as he heard footsteps approach. It was a stranger looking harried and rushed. They cast a suspicious look at Percival and moved to the other side of the alley as they passed as though homelessness was somehow catching. That, more than anything he’d experience in his short time on the street hurt more. Suddenly Percival was no longer considered an equal, a member of society. He was someone to be feared and avoided through his misfortune.

Rain began to drizzle and Percival pulled his blanket tighter around him. He thought about the possibility of sleeping. Nights were getting colder so it would have made more sense to sleep during the warmer day and keep active during the night. Except he still had a job to do and he couldn’t sleep in his office. Tiredly he sighed. A nap probably wouldn’t hurt. It would help pass time quicker at any rate.

In the morning he got ready in a public restroom. Nobody at MACUSA could ever see him in his sweatpants. Even if he took a back entrance somebody was sure to see him. So he put on the crumpled and still slightly damp shirt, his suit trousers, and waistcoat. A quietly muttered spell made him look a little more presentable, a passing glance and he’d look normal. Percival huffed mirthlessly at that. Normal lost its meaning a week back. Maybe even longer before that. As soon as it was socially acceptable he walked into MACUSA, to the deserted toilets in the usually empty corridor. This time he cast a charm to warn him of anybody approaching before he got his toiletries out of his suitcase and got ready for the day.

Life seemed to carry on. Percival almost settled into his new lifestyle, there was a rhythm to getting up with sunrise, stretching out his numb limbs and going for an aimless walk before heading into the blessed warmth of work. Autumn had truly set in over the course of the week, most nights he ended up damp on his stoop. At first he’d cast charms to stay dry, stay warm but as time went by they became exhausting. His trousers were starting to hang loose on his hips, his belt holding them up instead of them sitting comfortably around his waist. Sugary, creamy coffees became his daytime staple, they provided enough energy for him to keep moving, keep up appearances. Percival was tiredly reading the same line for the fourth time as he tried to comprehend the quarterly finance report of the department. He marvelled at how quickly he’d started seeing money in terms of sandwiches – just the printing budget of the department was enough for twenty sandwiches, which if rationed carefully could be enough to keep him going for a month. A knock on his door drew his eyes from the blurring lines.

“We’re heading out for lunch, would you like to come?” Goldstein poked her head round the door. Percival had all but forgotten, the last Thursday of each month the aurors would get together for lunch. His stomach tried to rumble at the idea. Instead he smiled in a way he hoped wasn’t bitter.

“Not today Goldstein, there’s a lot to be done before the end of the month. Maybe next time.” His smile and lie seemed to appease her as she nodded and left. As soon as she was out the door he dropped the report and rested his head on his hands. If they were all out for lunch maybe he could grab a quick nap in the warmth of his office. After all, it was nobody’s business how he spent his lunch. Instead though, he locked his door quietly and got his money out. His shirts and suits needed a proper clean. Payday was only a few days away, he could probably make do with what little he had left if he got at least a couple of his shirts clean. Percival divided his coins into two piles. As much as he would have loved to skip out on the drycleaner, there was only so much his cleaning spells could do for his clothes. On Friday morning he dropped off a few of his clothes with a promise to be back for them on Monday first thing. Part of him looked forward to the feeling of properly cleaned clothes again. He’d all but forgotten what a small luxury like that felt like against his skin.

He’d settled into his stoop on Saturday night, blanket pulled up round his shoulders, back curved against the wall and his head turned away from the chill of the wind. It was almost easy now to ignore the few people who walked past him pointedly not looking even in his direction. As the footsteps drew closer they faltered and Percival tried hard not to look up at the person. He was tense under his blanket, wand in hand. A couple of small things landed on his blanket which made Percival look up. A few coins glittered in the low light. His first instinct was to hand them back, explain that it was a mistake, he didn’t need the charity. But by the time he’d thought of all that the footsteps had hurried away and the moment was gone. Plus it was hard to deny that he did need the money, his anonymous donor had given him enough for half a sandwich and Percival wasn’t too proud to admit the feeling of relief at the hope of being able to eat a little better than expected.

The weeks blurred together much like the lines of the reports he was trying to read at work. His wages had come through and he’d once again emptied his vault of the pitiful sum that had been deposited in there. Part of him wanted to treat himself to something nicer, maybe some fruit because he suddenly had money again. Then he remembered that he needed to make it last until the end of the month and every little bit he could save meant that there may be a day where he could eat a whole sandwich towards the end of the month rather than having to split it over the course of two days. So he just looked at the apple with a bit of longing before moving away from the fruit stall and down the street. There was a little voice in his head that whispered how nobody would notice if an apple just so happened to disappear into his pocked but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still a man of the law and no matter how much he wanted something, even as small as an apple, he wasn’t going to steal it.

There was a run of warmer days and Percival took the time to appreciate it. Before, he’d never thought that something as meaningless as a warmer autumn day could cause him such relief. Each morning his fingers had been stiff from the cold, his back a constant low ache. He slept propped up against the stoop with his case under him. The blanket was looking a bit ragged, faded and dull under a layer of dirt he couldn’t seem to shift. A corner had become frayed and the stuffing was poking out of a few holes from the time he was too tired to spot the rusted nails which had been thrown carelessly onto the stoop. Walking into MACUSA each morning and feeling the warmth like a thousand tiny needles against his cheek had become a blessing. The cold only left his hands when he could finally curl them around his first cup of coffee and let the steam waft over his face. Percival knew that he was working slower, his restless, uncomfortable nights causing him to lose concentration, become sloppy in his own reports. For the first time in as long as he could remember a report was sent back to him to be redone because it wasn’t sufficiently precise. If he could have found it in himself Percival would have felt ashamed. As it was though all he could do was add it to his ever growing pile of things to do and hoped he could finish it in time.

It was almost an everyday occurrence for his day to be interrupted by knocks on his door. People still demanded his attention no matter how little of it he had left to give. This time it was Betty his secretary. She smiled as she walked in, an envelope in hand.

“It’s Abernathy’s birthday next week and we’re doing the usual whip –round and writing him a card. Would you like to contribute Sir?” she asked. Percival stilled before he could fight down the urge to panic. He hadn’t meant to forget about such traditions. Preciously he’d always been generous with chipping in to these kinds of things. This time he swallowed hard.

“Sure. I must admit I forgot, I’ll have something to put in by the end of lunch.” He nodded and watched Betty leave his office. As soon as she was out he scrambled to get his pouch out. He didn’t know why, he knew exactly how much was in there. Over the course of the week he’d been trying to save up a little just so on exceptionally cold or wet nights he could go to a diner, buy a coffee and wait out the worst of the weather in relative warmth and comfort. Percival looked at the coins in his palm. It was still considerably short of what he’d put in before. He looked at the rest of his money. If he put everything in there then it would be an acceptable sum. Lunchtime was coming up and he knew he needed to make a decision quickly. A hand strayed up to adjust his collar and trembling fingers caught on his collar pin. It was unthinkable, his beloved scorpion collar pins. One of the few items he’d kept to himself. But there was no choice anymore. Shaking hands took them out and he stared at them, glinting in the artificial light of his office. They’d been one of the last things his father had given him before he died. Percival closed his eyes and murmured an apology before heading out. The memories would still be there, he wouldn’t lose those even if he had to lose the pins.

The pawnshop smelled of desperation as he went in. It was far enough from MACUSA that perhaps the owner wouldn’t recognise him and none of the workers would go there and see the pins. He tried to haggle a fair price for them but still felt cheated when he left the shop with money in his pocket. On his way back into the office he left it with Betty and signed the card for Abernathy. He hoped whatever they got him was something the man would appreciate.

Nobody seemed to notice that he no longer had collar pins. They weren’t a requirement of the uniform but it was something he had always worn. It was another bitter reminder that is subordinates and colleagues didn’t realise he’d not had a home in over two months nor before that the fact that he wasn’t himself. Percival wondered why he bothered sometimes when there was no thanks in it at all. His musings were interrupted by commotion from the bullpen.

“Sit back down.” That was Goldstein’s strict order. Percival stuck his head out of the office to watch. By her desk was a scruffy looking man with wild eyes.

“I’m only trying to live.” He begged. “I don’t have any money to pay them back with.”

Percival closed his eyes in sympathy. It was pretty evident what was going on. The man was homeless, had stolen something, probably just to try and either eat or pawn something off to get money for food. Suddenly he felt sick at the thought. He wasn’t all that different from the man except he still had a smell shred of hope.

“I’m sorry Mister. But you were caught stealing and you will have to pay them back for it. I’m sure we can work out a payment plan if needed but those are the rules.” Goldstein looked sympathetic but strict. Her adamant adherence to the law was almost terrifying. Percival could only hope he’d never end up in the other man’s place. An idea struck him.

“Goldstein,” he called, “what’s the issue?”

“Sir. This gentleman has been caught stealing yet again from a shop. He’s of no fixed abode or income. A prison sentence is too severe for his crimes but he claims he cannot afford to pay the fine.” Her report was concise and clear. Percival didn’t want to challenge her idea that perhaps prison might be the kinder option for the man, at least he’d be warm, dry, and be fed three times a day. An idea struck him then.

“If he can’t pay it off, he can work it off.”

“Sir?” Goldstein asked as the man sputtered.

“You heard me. Your criminal can work off his fine, the shop will gain a temporary worked and while they don’t have to pay him wages they will provide for him like for all other employees, including lunch.”

Goldstein gaped at him and the man looked torn between laughing and crying. Percival nodded to himself, that might help the man keep warm and dry for a little while. And if he did well then perhaps the shop might even take him on as an employee eventually.

“See to it Goldstein.” he ordered and locked himself back in his office before she could reply. At least he still tried to find kindness in the world despite its cruelty to him, he mused. During lunch he wandered out to get a fresh cup of coffee. In the kitchenette was a box of doughnuts – the remains of Abernathy’s birthday celebrations. His stomach lurched at the sight. He hadn’t had a pastry in so long, he suddenly wanted. Almost disbelievingly he reached for one and bit into it. Whereas before he’d have grumbled about it being slightly dry, the filling being raspberry rather than strawberry jam, now he just closed his eyes and savoured the bliss. It was almost like a forbidden treat that he should deny himself because once he had a bite he knew he’d crave it for days to come. Instead he wolfed down the doughnut and after a quick glance around he wrapped another in a napkin and shoved it in his pocket. That evening on his stoop he relished in the doughnut, savouring every bite and licked his fingers clean of any lingering sugar.

It was a Tuesday morning when he finally ran out of hair pomade. He’d be carefully rationing it like everything else but there was only so far anything could stretch to before it ran out. His hair was long overdue a cut but that was another luxury that he couldn’t afford. He smeared the last little bits of pomade in his hair, trying to get the final drops from the edged of the tin. It was barely enough to hold his hair in place. The reflection in the mirror looked gaunt, the bags under his eyes were dark and as prominent as his cheekbones. He looked sallow and like a shadow of his former self. Winter was truly on its way in now, the temperatures dropping rapidly during the night. It left his lips chapped and sore, no amount of licking seemed to help soothe them. It was coming up to the end of his third month on the streets. His stoop all but forgotten now. It was too far to walk, he didn’t have the energy to battle through the cold. Instead Percival sought out shop doorways where he could turn his head away from the street, hoodie pulled up to hide him as much as possible. For a few hours after closing the shops would emit residual heat he would soak up and try to hold onto despite the ever lower temperatures of the night.

People noticed the change in his hair, a few of his subordinates even had the gall to tell him it suited him, made him look less severe. Percival took it all in stride with forced smiles and minimal small talk. He’d run out of things to say to people. Even before he’d never been one for idle chitchat but how do you talk about some drunkard taking a piss on you as you tried to sleep in a doorway because you’d been homeless and nobody had realised yet? So he avoided conversations that went beyond the weather. He’d not listened to the radio in so long that he was out of touch with all the on-going dramas people liked to gossip about. He still glanced at the front page of the newspaper as he walked by the paperboy but he hadn’t read on in so long. It was almost as though he were losing his humanity in the world but nobody cared.

The plans for a raid on a criminal gang were mounting. It had taken two weeks longer than predicted to come up with a viable plan. Percival was constantly tired, he’d stopped casting wandless charms and stopped using magic unless absolutely necessary. Something as simple as a cleaning charm left his lightheaded. He didn’t want to think about it, the way he’d gradually left off with magic. It was something he used to be proud of, his command of spells with or without a wand. Instead of summoning reports into his hand he’d started searching through the piles in his desk. He’d throw something towards the bin and hope it landed in its desired destination rather than float it mindlessly in. Every time he went to get a coffee he’d gather all the pieces that had missed the bin and dump them in there rather than try again or use magic to flick them into the waste basket.

When it was time to go on the raid he went with his aurors. It was all going fine, he hung back shamefully and let them do most of the work. They didn’t really need him and the spells left him breathless. Not that anybody noticed. However he couldn’t stay completely out of it. Goldstein’s back was turned when a criminal cast a crushing charm. Without thinking Percival stood in its path and cast a protective shield. It held briefly before crumbling under the spell which crashed into his arm. Percival bit his tongue to hold it the pained cry.

Stunned silence enveloped the room as the aurors stared at him. It took him a moment to realise why. His charm had been shattered by a mundane spell that hadn’t even been that powerful. Blinking away the tears of pain Percival cleared his throat.

“My apologies, I was distracted for a moment. Are you okay?” he said to Goldstein who stared at him with wide eyes.

“I’m fine sir, but your arm. We need to get you seen as soon as possible. Let’s get you to a hospital, shall we?” she offered her arm to him for a side-by-side apparition. Percival balked at that. He couldn’t go to a hospital again. Just walking through the doors would cost him more that he was paid a month in his current situation. Panic flared in his chest as he took an involuntary step away from Goldstein.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” he said.

“But sir, your arm.” Goldstein followed him. “Surely you want to get it checked out.”

Despite the pain Percival pushed his arm out and briefly pulled his sleeve up, the bruising was not yet evident but he hid it all the same after he saw Goldstein glance at it with a frown.

“My arm is perfectly fine, thank you.” He circled his wrist through gritted teeth for show. “My shield took enough heat out of the spell to make it only feel like a light shove. Nothing to worry about. Let’s wrap up here and head home.”

Goldstein looked doubtfully up at him but deferred to his authority with one final suspicious glance. Back at the office she knocked on his door and let herself in without waiting for permission. Percival just about had time to pull his sleeve down from where he’d been inspecting his arm. It wasn’t broken but severely bruised – perhaps even fractured.

“You don’t have to pretend to be fine to save face. Sir.” Goldstein huffed and pushed a potion bottle towards him. Percival looked at it with suspicion.

“It’s only a painkiller. I saw the bruise just now. You don’t have to pretend.” her tone gentled as she watched Percival eye the bottle.

“How much do I owe you for that?” Percival patted himself on the back for keeping his voice even. Goldstein looked surprised.

“Nothing, sir. I just thought you could probably use a bit of pain relief without having to admit to it.” She smiled mischievously and he returned a small one of his own.

“Thank you Goldstein. Much appreciated.” He took the bottle and downed its contents with a relish. There was no way to tell her that along with his arm he hoped it would get rid of the headache that had been plaguing him for the last three days or the low throb in his back. Percival couldn’t remember the last time he had the chance to lie down and relax. Goldstein left his office with a small muttering of “men” and a shake of her head.

Part of Percival blamed the potion for everything that was to come. His body relaxed into the pain free few hours and he relished it. Except when the potion wore off his aches and pains came back worse. His throat was scratchy, his head felt stuffed full of cotton wool, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. With dread he realised that he’s getting ill. It’s with some difficulty that he looks at his money pouch and tries to work out how much he still needs to be able to afford at least a potion to keep his fever in check. It’s still too much to spend and be able to buy food. He’d found another shop down the road that was a little bit cheaper and their sandwiches were perhaps a fraction bigger.

As he tried to sleep in shop doorway people still sometimes threw a few coins at him. Probably to try and make themselves feel better about heading home into a nice warm house whereas he had to watch his breath mist up and curl through the air. It was a Saturday when some rowdy drunk shook him awake with a leery grin.

“How about a little exchange?” the man slurred. Percival tried to shrug the hand off him and turn away.

“No, don’t be like that pretty. I think we could help each other out.” the man pulled him back round to face him. “I need my cock sucked. You need something warm in your belly. If you’re really good I might even leave you enough change to wash it down with some coffee after. How about it?”

Percival sneered and with all the energy he could muster he pushed the guy off. It left him breathless and coughing wetly into his hand.

“Ungrateful idiot.” The stranger sneered as he staggered away. “No wonder nobody wants you.”

The words hurt more than they should have. Percival curled up under his now ratty blanket and tried not to shake apart. He shivered in his hoodie and tried not to dwell on just how true the man’s words were. In the morning he shuffled into work, hair in a disarray and barely holding in the cough that threatened to choke him. There was a buzz in the office and murmurs of Newt Scamander’s return. Percival had read the reports, had heard accounts of this unusual wizard with his case full of illegal creatures. Before, Percival would have been a stickler for rules, demanding permits for the creatures if not baying for their destruction. Now though, he just wished that Scamander kept his case and creatures in line. He didn’t have the energy or the time to go running after illegal creatures brought into the country by a well-meaning but eccentric foreigner.

He watched through his open office door as Scamander arrived. Goldstein hugged him and he gave her what looked like a book. The other aurors all seemed just as pleased to see him and Scamander himself seemed comfortable with them. Percival shivered with cold despite the warmth of the building and kept his head down. A knock on the doorframe pulled him out of his stupor.

“Sir, this is Newt Scamander, he’s here for the next few weeks at least.” Goldstein introduced the men.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Scamander. And thank you for your help earlier this year.” Percival said, voice slightly husky. He’d been piling honey into his coffee to help ease his raw throat but it didn’t feel as though it had been working.

“The pleasure is all mine. It’s a delight to finally meet you.” Keen eyes swept over Percival before settling on his shoulder.

“I hope you enjoy your stay in New York but if you’ll excuse me, I have work to be getting on with.” Percival watched them close the door and only once it had clicked did he let out the cough he’d been fighting. It was wet, rattling and left his breathless. There was nothing he could do about it though so he carried on.

Over the next few days Scamander became a regular fixture in the department. Despite being a visitor he happily immersed himself in cases that potentially involved creatures and gave advice on handling. There was even a case where he dispelled the notion of a creature being involved. While it set the case back some, it at least saved them the time it would have taken to get to the conclusion themselves and start over again.

Another knock on his door just before lunch. It was Scamander.

“Would you like to get lunch together?” it was such a sweet, gentle offer Percival had to take a moment to be able to refuse politely.

“Perhaps another day, I have a lot on this week.”

“Of course.” Newt didn’t seem the least bit worried about the rejection. “Want me to bring you something while I’m out?”

It was the first time someone had offered to get him something and Percival’s breath caught on a cough. Once he’d finished he sheepishly looked at Scamander and shook his head.

“I’m fine thank you Mr. Scamander.”

Scamander shook his head with a small frown and shut the door. Percival continued to cough to his heart’s content until it felt like his lungs were on fire and about to come out through his throat. The week passed by as any other week would. His reports were slow to be completed, the warmth of his office lulling his exhausted body into sleep he’d jerk up from only to slump down again. Percival had taken to wearing his coat over his hoodie under the blanket to try and stay warm. He wished he’d thought ahead and taken a pair of gloves with him at least. Shoe polishing had long since become a thing of the past and most mornings he’s just use a wet piece of toilet paper to wipe down any mud. His eyes burnt as he tried to focus in the meeting and stay awake. The coffee was more honey and cream than actual coffee by that point, sugar glooped thickly in the bottom of the mug. He swallowed the last granulated mouthful and sighed. His throat still felt scraped raw, his ear ached and his head throbbed all the way down to his neck. Percival cast a glance round at all the department heads assembled for the meeting. They all looked so self-assured and immaculate in their seats, attention to the head of the desk where Picquery was talking. He felt self-conscious all of a sudden. He was aware that his shirt hadn’t been cleaned properly in over a week. His shoes were scuffed, his hair was just short of wild. He’d tried to use water to tame it in the morning but there was only so much he could do. There was dirt under his fingernails so he curled his fingers into fists to hide them while still in contact with the lingering heat of the mug. The bruise on his arm peeked out from under his cuff so he surreptitiously pulled it down, over the prominent bones of his wrist.

The meeting ended and he shuffled out after everyone else, bringing up the back of the group. Nobody saw him stumble out of the door, barely repressed cough tightening his throat. He thought he ought to be grateful, his throat wasn’t quite so bad anymore except he knew that it wasn’t because he was getting better. The pain had moved deeper into his chest, taken a hold of his lungs, each breath a slight rattle. He wished for a warm bath to ease his stiff muscles even if for a temporary relief. At lunch he locked his door and lay down on the floor. The carpet softer than the hard concrete step of a shop floor. He let himself drift in a haze.

The handle on his door twisted but the lock held. Immediately he hauled himself off the ground and straightened his clothes before going to unlock the door. Scamander stood facing him.

“I was hoping to invite you out to lunch. My treat.”

Percival stood and stared. He struggled to think of the last time he’d had lunch. Let alone eaten out. The prospect was so tempting but he knew how these things went. Next time lunch would be on him. And as much as he could try to be socially engaging, he knew that there was no way he could even return the favour with so much as a cheap coffee.

“No strings attached.” Newt hastened to add upon seeing his indecision. The offer of food was too great, Percival was only human. And a poorly one at that. He lapped up the shreds of kindness tossed at him and let Newt lead him. They didn’t go anywhere fancy, just a small diner tucked out of the way. If his memory served him well their entrance was particularly uncomfortable to sleep on.

He couldn’t help it, looking at the menu. The first thing he looked at was the price. It all seemed unreasonably expensive. A simple sandwich cost twice, almost three times as much as the one down road from the shop. When their orders were taken he chose the cheapest options possible. As much as he wanted something else, he couldn’t bear to take advantage of Newt’s generosity.

The meal passed in silence. Percival really tried not to wolf his food down like a starving man, to hold onto a modicum of control and appearances but he was still finished before Newt was even half way through his meal. His cough erupted from him as they paid and Newt frowned.

“Are you taking anything for that? It sounds terribly painful.” There was no judgement there, just the polite concern of a fellow human. Percival brushed him off.

“I’m fine. It’s just a lingering cough.” Newt cast him a doubtful glance but didn’t press further. Percival was thankful for his willingness to accept his lie.

That evening he was curled up on the almost warm step of a shop, the cold air sinking a deep chill into his bones. The sandwich he’d picked up that afternoon stayed untouched by his side. He’d had lunch that day which meant he would probably be okay to skip dinner and save it until the following day. Percival had learnt the hard way that the reduced sandwiches weren’t always available. So he made a habit of checking every day and if there were cheap ones going he’d buy one even if he didn’t need it until the next day.

A snuffling made him look up. There was a skinny dog sniffing along the ground, even in the low light Percival could count the ribs clearly defined under skin. It had patches of fur missing and looked so pitiful. Percival turned to look at it and the dog stared back at him curiously. It let out a hopeful yip and tentatively crept closer to him. There was something about the dog that caught Percival off guard. Perhaps the blind trust that he wasn’t going to beat it off. Or the optimism it exhibited as it cautiously approach him. He stretched a hand out and the dog eagerly ran its nose along the outstretched digits. It even gave him a few curious licks before it sat and stared. Percival couldn’t take it. He knew he shouldn’t but all the same he found himself reaching for his sandwich. Taking half of it from the packet he held it out to the dog who after regarding him suspiciously for a moment snatched the offered food and ran off. Percival watched it tear off into the dark with a soft sigh. He shouldn’t have done that but his heart gave a lurch. If he couldn’t help a stray starving dog then he’d lost all shreds of his humanity.

It was a few nights later that the thing he’d been hoping to avoid happened. He was burrowed into his blanket, hoodie pulled as far over his face as possible when he heard voices. Voices he recognised. Goldstein and Scamander were walking by, obviously on their way home after an evening meal out. Percival knew he shouldn’t feel jealous but he had so wanted to keep Scamander as a friend after that lunch time. He realised with a sudden jolt that in all his time on the streets he’d not once thought of sex. With his struggle to keep functioning in his professional capacity he’d all but forgotten the physical needs his body could demand. Goldstein and Scamander had walked past him without a second glance and Percival relaxed. Except in that moment a coughing fit took hold of him. Through the tears and coughs he saw them come to a stop. Newt patted his pockets.

“I think I left my pocket watch back at MACUSA. I’ll just pop back to grab it.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. You head back to Queenie before she gets worried about you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They bid each other goodnight like friends rather than lovers Percival noted idly, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. As Newt turned he quickly ducked his head to avoid Newt seeing him. He listened to footsteps retrace their path towards him and wondered when Scamander had become Newt in his mind. The steps stopped next to him and Percival watched from the corner of his eyes as Newt crouched down next to him.

“Is there an operation I don’t know about?” he asked quietly. Percival so desperately wanted to agree, to say he was information gathering. Instead he shook his head and closed his eyes against the spinning of the world. A few tears of shame threatened to escape his lashes and he felt his cheeks heat up against his wishes. He didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. Whether he wanted Newt to move on, ignore him and forget him. Or whether he wanted to finally be seen for who he was and treated as a fellow human rather than a boss who needed to be treated with deferential respect but kept at an arm’s length and not questioned no matter what he did.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked and he didn’t even know what he was apologising for. He heard Newt sigh.

“Could I convince you to come down into my case? Nothing sinister, just to warm up a little. If you don’t want to I’ll respect that and leave you alone. But I think you could do with a bit of warmth right about now.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” Percival muttered and he realised how true that was. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone. After all, nobody had until now realised his situation, so it was safe to assume that nobody cared. Any offer of help would be offered out of a sense of duty rather than a genuine offer of care. His head felt fuzzy and all the thoughts circled noisily in his head, drowning out any other thoughts.

“You’re no trouble. Come on.” Newt put a gentle hand on his shoulder and helped him stand. The case was open by his feet and as much as Newt would have wanted to help him into the case he gave Percival enough respect and dignity to allow him to climb precariously down without any assistance. Percival was oddly grateful for such kindness.

In the case Newt guided him towards a small cot in the corner of the messy room. Percival backed away in a panic. He was filthy, his clothes had lost their original colour under the layers of dust, mud and who know what else. Newt stood in front of him with a clean blanket.

“It’s okay.” Newt reassured him softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t take your bed.” Percival grit out. The clean, soft blanket was wrapped around him and firm hands guided him onto the cot all the same.

“I have another one back at the apartment we’re going to. I’ll sleep there. You’re no trouble.”

It was those last words that helped ease Percival into the cot. It was so soft, warm, and there was no biting wind whipping around his face. Even if he’d wanted to Percival couldn’t have resisted the sleep which overtook him.

He woke in a state of panic. Percival was comfortable and warm. He hadn’t woken with the sun. Instead he was in a moderately darkened room, ensconced in a soft blanket. His case was next to the bed, battered and waterlogged as it had gotten, it was still his and usually housed his worldly possessions. Seeing it next to bed helped him calm somewhat. A cough worked its way out of him and suddenly light was pouring into the room.

“You’re awake.” Newt smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Where am I? What time is it?” he groaned.

“You’re in my case which is at my apartment at the moment. I thought it was best not to move you while you slept. You looked like you needed it. As for time? It’s twenty minutes past two.”

Percival jerked out of the bed. He couldn’t be late to work. There were reports he needed to approve, paperwork to fill out and meetings to attend. A hand on his chest gently pressed him back into bed.

“Relax. You’ve got 3 weeks of vacation starting as of today.” Newt reassured him and pulled a vial from his coat. “This will help you with your cough too.”

Percival didn’t reach for the vial. He couldn’t cope with a three week vacation. He had nowhere to go, it was the middle of winter and at least at work he could keep warm and stay late until he absolutely had to leave his office and its warmth behind. The potion vial was pushed towards him.

“I can’t. I can’t pay you back for that.” It was the first time he admitted he couldn’t pay for something and he felt awful as he stared at the ground in defeat. The vial never wavered.

“I don’t expect you to.”

“But. I have to. You don’t understand.” He tried to find the words to explain. He didn’t have anything left to give, he only had what little shreds of dignity and pride he could cobble together from the remains of himself and he clutched at those with the desperation of a drowning man.

“Get better first. Then we’ll talk about how you can repay me. Okay?”

There was only so much a man could refuse what he really needed and Percival buckled under the kindness. He took the vial and drank it down. Newt helped ease him back into bed and he was asleep before he could think to ask anything else.

The next time he opened his eyes Newt was quietly working at the table near the cot. Percival turned onto his side to watch the man and he marvelled at the comfort he’d all but forgotten about. Newt glanced up at him but didn’t say anything. Another vial and a plate of sandwiches was floated over to him. Percival looked at the plate and gulped. The sandwiches were thickly laden and there was enough for him to eat over the course of three days. He glanced at Newt who was busy working on something, head bent down, inky covered hand scribbling away. Quietly Percival slipped a napkin covered sandwich into his pocket before picking up another one and began to eat.

“You know there’s more if you’d like some.” Newt’s voice cut through his moment of bliss as flavours exploded on his tongue. He swallowed and glanced at Newt, trying not to look guilty. “Just saying. I’d be more than happy to bring you some more if you’d like.”

Percival nodded and looked down at the plate. He’d scarfed down one and a half sandwiches like some Neanderthal. He should have offered Newt one of the sandwiches at least. Ashamed he lowered the plate, appetite lost all of a sudden. A vial nudged his hand gently.

“Take your medicine with food.” Newt softly reminded him but made no other move to intervene with Percival.

The next few days passed by in a blur of food. Newt proved himself honest and brought Percival more food if his plate ran empty. It was an awkward moment when he realised that the sandwich he’d put in his pocket at the first meal was still there. Newt just took it from him without batting an eyelid when Percival pulled it out, squished from where he’s slept on it and smelling slightly as it started to go off. On the fourth day Percival felt well enough to get out of bed. Newt showed him where the shower was and instructions to take as long as he needs. His old clothes were spirited away and Newt left him clean ones. The water was gloriously warm and Percival turned it up as hot as he could tolerate it, steam filled the room and he stood under the gentle spray. Washing up in public restrooms and MACUSA toilets had been sufficient but nothing compared to a wonderfully hot shower. He emerged on weak, coltish legs when he had no more energy to stand. The clothes he’d been given were soft, clean and smelled faintly of nature.

Newt was back in the case when Percival descended, battling to pull a clean sheet onto the cot. Percival felt guilty at that and offered to help. Instead he was sat down at the table with a bowl of fresh soup.

“Why?” he eventually built up the courage to ask.

“Why what?” Newt shot back puzzled.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because you deserve it.” Newt made it sound so simple. “I had a chat with Picquery. Don’t worry, she’s none the wiser but I gathered enough information to figure out a few things.”

Silence descended heavily on them. Eventually Percival looked up from the table.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

“Eat you soup.” Newt replied.

Percival didn’t need telling twice. By the time his bowl was empty his eyelids were drooping and he gratefully let Newt lead him back to the freshly made bed.

Another few days later, his cough was finally breaking up. Percival felt well enough to spend a day up and about rather than falling asleep every few hours. Newt was somewhere and he was down in the case. It was purely by accident that he found the stash of vials that Newt had been giving him. He took in the volume, the number of missing ones and how many more Newt had bought. It must have cost him a small fortune not to mention the food he’d piled on Percival. Suddenly Graves felt dizzy with the weight of just how much debt he’d been incurring. He had to pay Newt back, there was no way this was all just given to him freely. Not after everything else. He was paying for the damages brought about by a mad dark wizard purely because the man decided to wear his face. There was no telling how much he would have to pay Newt and how much time he’d have to find the money. Panic made his vision swim and it felt as though the world was squeezing down around him, not enough air breathe. A noise behind him broke his spiral. Warm hands were forcing him down onto the floor, head between his knees and words encouraged him to take slow breaths.

When the world stopped feeling like it was trying to squeeze him into one of the medicine vials he blinked up at Newt.

“Want to tell me about it?” Percival shook his head. Then nodded immediately. He felt foolish at his indecision.

“I don’t know how to pay you back.”

Newt is quiet for too long. Percival begins to worry that he’s about to be dumped back out into the cold. He should have known he’d need to pay this back too, it was too good to be anything but a wild fantasy about kindness.

“Would you believe me if I said you didn’t have to?”

Percival shook his head. He had to pay it back. Some way. Newt sighed and stood.

“I don’t want to insult you by saying you really don’t have to. You want to pay me back some way? Fine. Help me with my creatures. Help me on the feeding rounds. When you’re a bit better you can help me clean them out.”

Percival gets to it straight away. Occasional bouts of dizziness he can cope with if it meant he could work off some of his debt. He knew Newt was giving him the easy jobs – feeding the occamies, bottle feeding the younger creatures who needed to cuddle close while suckling from a bottle. Occasionally he’d be able to sneak a bucket of feed to the larger creatures. It left him winded but it made him feel useful. Newt would stare at him with fond exasperation and take the empty bucket with a quiet “thanks”.

It didn’t feel enough somehow though. As Percival continued to drink the potions, his vacation time coming to an end, he wanted to ask Newt what next. He never could quite build up the courage to ask, too afraid of the rejection, of being sent on his way. He didn’t know how he could earn his keep if he was at work while Newt battled the creatures alone.

His first day back at work he was greeted with polite smiles and enquiries about his holiday. Percival fended off the questions with vague answers and settled back in his office with renewed vigour. He looked back over his work and paled. It was, for want of a better word, awful. Full of mistakes, inaccuracies and vague references. Nothing like his usual, tight and precise style. He wondered why nobody had picked him up on it. At the very least mentioned to him that his work wasn’t up to scratch. He lost himself in correcting past mistakes, bringing reports back and making amends. At lunch time there’s a knock on his door and Newt is there with a brown paper bag. In it is a sandwich and Percival stares at him in awe. He’d become so accustomed to not eating during the day that it had slipped his mind to even feel hungry. The vial of medicine nestled in the bag makes him feel even worse. Newt had taken time out of his day to make him a sandwich, bring it to him and make sure he’s okay. There’s nothing in his whole life he’d be able to do to make up for such kindness.

Except. He’d seen the way Newt’s eye occasionally linger on him. And he remembered the few times somebody had propositioned him in exchange for money, a warm bed for the night or even just a touch of kindness. He’d had too much pride and refused them all. But now, it was the last thing he had left and the only thing he could offer Newt. The door locked with a click – it was a spot of wandless magic – the first he’d used in months. While it left him a little faint it wasn’t the all-consuming fatigue and magic had left him with before. Newt seemed oblivious as he approached him behind his desk. Percival carefully, almost reverently puts the bag on the desk and faces Newt who is standing just outside of his reach. It’s almost easy for Percival to slide out of his chair onto his knees and his fingers fumble with Newt’s belt. He doesn’t hear the surprised intake of breath or his name being called. This was the only way he could repay Newt so that is what he must do. Fingers wrap firmly around his wrists and still him. Newt had stepped away, just out of his reach. Percival can’t look him in the eye. The frustration of not being allowed to at least try to repay some of his debts makes his eyes water and he flushes with shame. The rejection hurts almost as much as the gnawing hunger had in the past.

“Percival.” His name sounds so soft from Newt’s lips. Newt sinks to the ground in front of him, kneels and mirrors his position.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps out, fighting back the tears. Newt says nothing, just pulls him close, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It was just a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?” Newt sounded like he was trying to reassure both of them. Worry straining his voice.

“I have nothing else to give.” Percival bit out.

“Nonsense. You have so much to give. And you should only give something like this if you want to. Not because you feel you have to. Understood? There are some things that with time you can always regain. But something like this? You’ll never be able to take it back.”

Percival hung his head in shame and let himself melt into Newt’s embrace. A knock on the door had his struggling to get up yet Newt’s arms stayed firm around him.

“Is it urgent?” Newt called out. A muffled response Percival couldn’t make out and Newt ran a hand up and down his back.

“Director Graves is on his lunch break, please come back in an hour.” Newt called back again, his voice full of authority. They stayed on the floor like that until Percival felt his legs start to go numb. He shifted and Newt released him.

“Now. I think it’s time you had lunch and then we’ll need to have a good long chat. Okay?”

Percival nodded sheepishly and took the paper bag back in his hands. The sandwich was his favourite, piled full of flavour and filling. He appreciated the effort Newt had gone to. All too soon the last of the sandwich disappeared into his mouth and he drank the medicine after it. Newt watched him with almost pride which confused him.

“How are you feeling?”

The question caught him off guard.

“Better. Thank you.” Percival said.

“No need to thank me. You still have a little way to go to be back to fighting fit. But tell me, why do you insist on paying me back?”

“I can’t just take advantage of you. “

“No, but I thought we’d agreed that you’ll help me with my creatures instead.” Newt frowned in confusion.

“It’s not enough though, is it? I have no money to pay you back with. Not only did you take me in, feed me, buy me medicine, you continue to take the time to make sure I’m okay. I don’t know how to handle it.” The honesty hurt Percival but it was better to say it all now than let it fester.

“Okay. I’ll say this once and only once. Let’s make a deal. You can stay with me for as long as you want to, I won’t charge you rent or anything like that. But things like laundry? Cleaning? I’m awful at those. Will you help me?”

Percival nodded mutely. He could do that. He’d even cook and prepare meals for during the day for Newt too. At the weekends he could help with the creatures and maybe even help Newt relax by allowing him to take a day off from all his duties. Percival was well aware that while he worked usually Monday to Friday and got two days off, for Newt his creatures required round the clock care every single day.

Life mostly settled for them from then on. They still had moments of ups and downs, when Newt would feel that Percival was pushing himself too hard or Percival would fret over Newt having enough of him. Percival’s subordinates noticed small changes. Their boss stopped looking so haggard, he stopped staying quite such long hours and he arrived at the office at sensible hours rather than always being the first one in the office. His work improved considerably too, fewer mistakes, better plans for raids and surveillance. Nobody knew what had changed, the transition had been as subtle as his descent had been. Gradually his smiles became less forced, more natural and on one memorable occasion he even joined them for an end of month lunch.

The summons to Picquery’s office filled him with dread all the same. He walked to the office with fake confidence in his step. Once again Picquery was behind her desk and motioned him to sit down. He perched on a chair like a lamb at a slaughter. Picquery smiled at him. He tried to return it and felt fairly confident he had managed.

“I’m glad to see you looking so well Director.” She began. “I just wanted to let you know that your debts had been paid off. As of next month your salary will return to normal.”

“Thank you Madam President.” Percival said.

“I’m also glad your quality of work has improved considerably. We were getting worried we’d have to relieve you of duties if things continued. Thankfully Mr. Scamander can be very persuasive if he feels passionate enough about a case.”

That was like cold water trickling down his back. He hadn’t realised until that moment just how close he’d been to losing his job after everything else he’d lost. Picquery smiled at him and let her door swing open in clear dismissal. He left and stumbled into his own office in shock, lost in the possibilities and what ifs of his life.

When his pay was finally returned to its normal levels the first thing Percival did was take Newt out for a meal to the same diner they’d gone to for lunch all those months ago.

“You know, I never did tell you but the steps of this diner were particularly uncomfortable to sleep on.” He let slip as they entered. Newt turned to give him a look he couldn’t quite decipher and continued to an empty table.

“I don’t know how you can still be so callous about being homeless.”

“Sorry?” Percival ventured.

“No, no. I mean. I admire your strength.” Newt clarified. Percival snorted, he felt many things but definitely not strong. Newt shrugged and mumbled about agreeing to disagree. This time when he looked at the menu Percival relished in not having to look at the prices and worry about how much it would cost. He still considered it a factor in his order but it was no longer the most important aspect. It was perhaps one of his most enjoyable meals. He took great joy in the company and the fact that it was the first proper meal he’d actually been able to afford himself. His eyes met Newt’s over a mouthful of pasta and he blushed. Perhaps some other things were slowly returning to him too.

He never acted on his growing affections for Newt. It didn’t seem right. His rejection still burnt brightly in his mind and Percival wasn’t sure whether he could handle another rejection just yet. Instead he focussed all his attention on his work. With his wages back to normal he could start his savings anew. The next time he went to the bank a small part of him filled with pride at a pile of money he set to once side. Towards a deposit to a place to call his own home. He loved living with Newt, they had a rhythm worked out but he knew it couldn’t be an indefinite arrangement. With his growing affections for Newt piled on top of the feeling that he was holding Newt back it was too much.

Finally the month came when he had enough for a deposit. Newt helped him look at apartments that were realistically in his price range. Most of them were small studio flats in not such a great part of town but it was a place he could call his own home. It didn’t matter that Newt and his case had somehow become home to him over the course of the past months. Eventually he settled on one. It was small, it wasn’t in a good part of town but it was a plausible distance from MACUSA that he could walk in each morning. At first rent would be on a weekly basis and after 3 months he could move to monthly payments. It suited him just fine.

When he moved, he had a suitcase full of clothes and a little bowl Newt had gifted him with – a moving in present and a place to put your keys – he’d said. It took pride of place next to the door. It was the first thing he saw when he got back from work and the last thing before he left. The bowl was a reminder that someone out there cared for him. And it was a nice feeling.

Yet it didn’t feel like home. It was silent, oppressive in the way nights on the street had been. There was no comfort in turning up the heating and the rustling of neighbours. It wasn’t quite the same as hearing Newt shuffle about for one of the infants. Percival found himself on the mattress tossing and turning. The mattress was larger than what he’d slept on while with Newt but it felt too big, like he was in the middle of swamp, suffocating on blankets and pillows.

Little did Percival know that Newt was also missing him. He missed the times Percival would quietly step through the door and take a deep breath. He doubted Percival even realised what he was doing, the way he relished coming home. Despite all his creatures in the case, it still felt empty and lonely without someone to help with the feeds. Even his creatures seemed subdued when Percival missed yet another feed.

It was the middle of the night but Newt was still pottering around in his case. Since he no longer had Percival’s snuffling snores to lull him to sleep, rest eluded him. A knock on his door jolted him from his meanderings. He cautiously opened approached the door.

“Who is it?” he called out and palmed his wand in sweaty hands.

“Me.” Percival’s voice was rough. “I’m sorry.”

Newt flung the door open in his haste and it bounced back off the wall into his shoulder. He ignored it in favour of scooping Percival into his arms and pressing his nose into the crook of his neck.

“I missed you.” he mumbled before remembering himself. He let go of Percival as quickly as he’d enveloped him in a bear hug and stepped back, clearing his throat. Percival was openly laughing at him.

“I missed you too.”

“Want to come in?” Newt stepped to the side and gestured into his apartment.

“Would love to.” Percival replied and snagged Newt’s hand in his on the way in.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr - I'm ladyoftheshrimp


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